Chapter 23 Zemirah

Chapter 23 Zemirah
Zemirah

Sloane drove me to the mill herself.

The two men stayed behind with Fernandez. I didn't look back at the barn, because I didn't want to see his face and have this weird feeling of “what if things went wrong.”

The mill was an hour south, not two. Sloane had lied about the distance, I knew she might have lied about a lot of things.

"You planned this from the beginning," I said. "Tasha killing my father and me coming back, all of it was your plan yeah?"

"I planned for Tasha to take the pack, but it wasn't in my plan for you to survive Detlef."

"Sorry to disappoint you ma’am."

She didn't answer.

The mill appeared out of the dark, it had three stories, wooden,and half-collapsed. A wheel on the side, still turning slow in the current.
Sloane parked the car and cut the engine.

"She's inside, go."

"Aren't you coming with me?"

"C'mon, you know she doesn't want me there."

I got out, the grass was wet, and soaking through my shoes, the door to the mill was open.

Inside, the air smelled like rot, there was old grain, old water, and old wood falling apart.
Moonlight came through holes in the roof, cutting the dark into pieces.

Tasha stood by the mill wheel.

She looked different, she'd become thinner. Her hair was shorter, cut uneven like she'd done it herself with a knife.
She had dark circles under her eyes, but she smiled when she saw me, same smile, the one she used at pack dinners, I had this feeling she didn't smile with her eyes.

"Zemirah."

"Tasha."

"You came?”

"Yes, because you killed my father."

She tilted her head. "I did a lot of things. That's the one you care about?"

I didn't answer.

"He was never going to let me take over," she said. "I asked him, begged him, I proved to him I could lead, I told him I was ready, but what did he do?
He laughed at me and mockingly said I was too emotional, too unstable and too much like my mother."

"So you cut his throat."

"Yes."

Just like that, without hesitation or any feeling of regret?

"Why?"

"Because he gave everything to you.
The pack,the bloodline, the name, and deep down you know, you didn't earn any of it.
You were just born, and he loved you for it. He loved you even after he sold you.
I heard him every night, crying your name, and begging your mother to forgive him for sending you away." Her voice cracked. "He never cried for me,not even once."

I looked at my stepsister, she was the woman who had hurt me as a child, she had smiled at pack dinners like nothing was wrong, she killed our father and felt nothing.

"You're sick," I said.

"I'm free."

"No. You're lonely, you've always been alone, nobody likes you, that's why you hurt people without conscience, because you don't know how to be close to anyone without breaking them or bringing harm to them."

Her smile disappeared. " You think you do but you don't know anything about me."

"I know you're going to die in this mill, either by my hand or by the council's, those are your only options."

Tasha pulled a knife from her belt, the blade caught the moonlight.

"Then I guess we're done talking."

She lunged.

I stepped aside, she stumbled past me, off balance, her knife cut through the air.
She'd never been a fighter, she never trained, and she never did anything except scheme and smile and wait for things to fall into her lap.

She turned, came at me again.

This time, I didn't move.

The knife went into my shoulder.

The pain was sharp, hot, immediate. I felt it in my teeth, my spine, the tips of my fingers, but I didn't fall. I grabbed her wrist and held it, squeezed it until the bones ground together.

She screamed.

I took the knife from her hand and pushed her away.

She fell against the mill wheel, clutching her wrist. Blood dripped from my shoulder, down my arm, onto the floor.

"You're going to hate the scar," Tasha said, breathing hard. "It'll be ugly and people will mockingly ask you about it."

"Let them ask."

I walked to her, she didn't run, neither did she try to fight, she just sat there against the wheel, watching me come towards her again.

"I'm not going to kill you," I said. "I want to, but I'm not."

"Why?"

"Because death is too easy, I want you to stand in front of the council and tell them what you did, then they'll decide what happens to you."

Tasha laughed like a broken record.

"You think they'll give me a fair trial? They'll execute me before sundown."

"Then you shouldn't have killed our father."

I pulled out my phone and called Fernandez.

He answered on the first ring. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, She's here with me, we are at the old mill, come get her."

I hung up.

Sloane was standing in the doorway, she'd watched everything, but she didn't move to help Tasha, nor did she speak.

"You're next," I said. "If you ever come near my pack again, I'll kill you by myself."

She nodded, like she expected it all along.

I walked out of the mill, the grass was still wet, and the moon was still bright, my shoulder burned in deep pain, with every step I took.

Behind me, Tasha started to cry.

But I didn't bother looking back.